


a word of advice

by captainofthegreenpeas



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types
Genre: Advice, Dark!Plutarch Heavensbee, F/F, Femslash, Fluff, Intrigue, Masoncoin, Pillow Talk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-01
Updated: 2018-03-01
Packaged: 2019-03-25 17:30:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13839600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captainofthegreenpeas/pseuds/captainofthegreenpeas
Summary: In the privacy of the bedroom, Johanna warns Alma to watch out for hidden enemies.





	a word of advice

Johanna stared up at the concrete ceiling. Some of the other compartments had long thin cracks running through them, like rivers drawn on maps, then blotted with paste to form thick scars. Not this one. The ceiling was as flat and even as the sky, so at least of all the worries spinning through her head as she looked up at this ceiling, its collapse on top of her was not one of them.

 

It was as dark as a sky right now, lit only by the faint amber glow of District Thirteen’s emergency lighting: bright enough that she could make her way safely across the room, but not so bright that Alma beside her woke up. Good. The president needed sleep more than ever during times such as these.

 

Johanna felt almost like a parent, watching the clock, calculating how many hours of sleep they’d get if they retired to her compartment now, estimating how long it would take them to get up in the morning (five minutes in Alma’s case, fifteen in hers- but if Johanna lay in for fifty minutes she might get away with it).

 

Last night, she was hopping on one foot, waiting for a natural break in Coin’s speech to interject and demand the president’s rest. If it was any other rebel leader she wouldn’t have thought twice about interrupting. But Coin’s delivery had been smooth and authoritative and the pace had not slackened once, leaving no room for a polite request.

 

“BED!” she had finally shouted.

 

“It’s an emergency,” Alma claimed.

 

“Everything is an emergency! You can sleep on it. The emergency will be there in the morning.”

 

To her satisfaction, everyone in the room agreed with her. Only, their cries of “BED!” had been silent and internal. They all concluded that some time to sleep on the matter would be of benefit to all. The most unctuous of the yes-men had been quick to assure the president that, should she wish in her unending diligence and rightful wisdom to delegate any more of her noble burdens, their humble shoulders stood willing and eager to pick them up. Johanna’s eyes had rolled like marbles.

 

Alma had been right on one thing: it was an emergency, though nobody said so aloud. Some around the table might not even have realised. The end of the war, which before the surrender of the Nut had been peeking through the clouds like a beam of sunlight, was now stepping closer with each day. Yet for all the atmosphere of hope, functioning political antennae could not fail to detect uncertainty. The Nut had cracked, the Capitol had not. Judging from the map they called the Holo, it would resist a lot of pressure before it would. The hovercraft may be coming in to land, but they could still expect to feel some turbulence before touching down.

 

All of Johanna’s life, the great wings of the Capitol’s eagle had cast a shadow over her. Now the shadow was beginning to clear… shining light on new enemies previously unseen. The more she looked at some of the other rebels, the less trustworthy they were, each one more unsavoury than the last. Their allies were a motley crew bound by common cause into a marriage of convenience. Like the ceilings, the cracks were beginning to show. It was only a matter of time before the weight was too much, followed by collapse. And when that collapse occurred… she looked over at Alma asleep. No. Johanna had seen her fair share of power plays and betrayals during her visits to the Capitol.  She’d played a far more dangerous game and won, so she had little sympathy for the Capitol citizens who chose to play, lost and paid for it with their lives. But Alma… Alma mattered. Alma could not lose.

 

Johanna did not doubt her competency. _But how much is Alma used to being lied to?_ She wondered. The need to survive meant that most of Thirteen’s officials got straight to the point. Alma was an effective administrator, of that there was no doubt, but could she be a schemer too? The two roles often required contradictory traits.

 

Almost as if she had sensed Johanna’s unease, Alma turned and woke up, looking straight at Johanna.

 

“Hey.”

 

“Hello.” The President blinked at her for a moment. “Has something troubled your sleep? Speak of it only if you wish to.”

 

“No. I mean yes.” Johanna sighed. “I did have a few short nightmares. Nothing unusual. My nightmares are all…” she gestured “from the past. The present’s keeping me awake now.”

 

“Do you not feel safe, in Thirteen?” There was an element of mournfulness in Alma’s voice.

 

“District Seven is my home,” Johanna said, as gently as she could. “And Thirteen is a stranger place alive than dead.”

 

“Has anyone mistreated you here, or made you feel less than welcome?”

 

“No! No, no. I think they’re more afraid of me than I am of them.”

 

“I think you are correct in that.” Alma reached over to stroke Johanna’s cheekbone; and the two embraced.

 

“The other day, I heard about the battles in our forests,” Johanna’s smile blazed. “I’ve never been prouder, to come from Seven. I only wish I could have been there with them.”

 

“If you truly want to go home after the revolution is over… don’t let me hold you back.”

 

“It’s OK. If I never came here, I wouldn’t have met you, would I?”

 

Johanna couldn’t tell in this light, but she could have sworn that some colour had just tinted the pale wan face of the president.

 

“And yet you are afraid still, even in my bed.”

 

“Not because of you. Because of the people around you.”

 

Alma sat up, frowning. “Afraid? On my behalf?”

 

Johanna too, sat up. The collar of her sleeping shirt slipped, baring her sharp shoulders and collarbone, softened only slightly by her now having three meals per day. The light filtering through the spikes of her hair sent the shadows of daggers across the wall.

 

“Alma,” she entreated. “I’m not a politician. I’m not really a soldier, either. I haven’t read lots of books. Nobody ever sat me down and taught me about politics, or war. Survival however… that I do know a lot about. Deception… I know a fair bit about that, too. If I didn’t, I’d be long dead by now. That’s the hard truth.”

 

“I’ve always preferred hearing hard truths.”

 

“Then you’ve got no one better to hear them from.” Johanna took Alma’s hands in her own. Her skin was rough, her fingers gentle. “I’m not trying to trick you. You can trust me, I swear, because it’s all what I genuinely think.”

 

“I welcome advice from all corners-“

 

“But this corner, I beg you to listen to!” Johanna pressed. “More perhaps than your other advisers.”

 

“Why?” Alma asked curiously, not rudely.

 

“Because I love you,” Johanna promised. “I don’t have any other motives for giving you advice. I love you, so I want you to win.”

 

Alma laced her fingers through her lover’s. “So. As my adviser, what do you propose?”

 

Johanna sighed and tilted her head, lost in the thoughts she was summoning to the surface.

 

“If I were you, I wouldn’t let Boggs leave your side. Give someone else leadership of Star Squad. Keep him here.”

 

“Squad 451 is vital. I trust no one better than Boggs to lead it. He’s competent, he’s experienced and he’s loyal.”

 

“Boggs’ loyalty is why he needs to stay here!” Johanna gave Alma’s hands a squeeze. “Don’t send away one of the few people you can actually trust.”

 

“If I’m surrounded by schemers, as you seem to think, Boggs will be less useful here than at the front. Honest men frequently fail to spot and outwit schemers.”

 

“Do what you think is right.” Johanna shrugged. “I’m just making suggestions.”

 

“Which I value.”

 

“I know,” Johanna gave Alma an enthusiastic peck on the cheek. The older woman seemed surprised, not yet used to Johanna’s rather random bursts of affection.

 

“So what else do you advise?” Alma smiled. “Do I need to start being afraid of Effie Trinket, now?”

 

“Effie doesn’t like you,” Johanna said bluntly.

 

“I think I can live with that,” Alma replied.

 

“Effie’s not a plotter. She’s not even that much of a rebel. District Twelve’s victors are her priority. If you keep Haymitch on your side, she’ll follow him. She’ll be furious if you lay a finger on “her victors” but she’s mostly harmless. I can’t imagine how she could make herself a threat. Still, to be sure of her loyalty you’ll need Haymitch. He doesn’t trust you at all, but then again he probably doesn’t trust anyone.”

 

“Haymitch is a drunkard.”

 

“A clever drunkard; and now a sober one. He’s very difficult to deceive, never mind how high his blood alcohol concentration is. I think you need to make more of an effort to win him over before you can trust any gestures of support he makes.”

 

“And the other victors?”

 

“All the other victors have ever known, is Snow. You’re not Snow. You won’t sell them, hold their children hostage or make them fight to the death. That’s all they want in a president. Someone who will keep them safe. They don’t care what games you play, so long as you leave them out of it.”

 

“But Katniss…”

 

“Katniss is a pawn. Pushed around from player to player.”

 

“A symbol.”

 

“A symbol who wants to survive; and make Peeta survive too. Your deal with her was wise. Hold to it. Don’t take your eye off her for a second, because she can change in an instant. Remember: Prim, occasionally her mother, Peeta, Gale, Haymitch, possibly Effie. Those are her pressure points. Stick to them; and she will follow.” 

 

“Which leaves…”

 

“Heavensbee.” Johanna rubbed at the back of her neck. “Well. Who knows what game Heavensbee’s playing.”

 

“He’s useful.”

 

“He was useful to Snow, too.”

 

“In the name of the revolution. Come now. That’s hardly fair.”

 

“Is it fair to ask you never to trust him?”

 

“I don’t trust him. I use him.”

 

“Keep it that way; and use him as little as possible.”

 

“If he thinks I don’t trust him…”

 

“He might have guessed already. If he’s ever doubted your trust in him, he wouldn’t let on.”

 

“He’s not a yes-man. We’ve disagreed over matters of strategy; and he is straightforward in his counsel. If he was trying to manipulate me, surely he would be trying to make himself my friend.”

 

“Takes a deceiver to spot a deceiver, Alma.” Johanna warned. “Heavensbee deceives so well that maybe he even convinces himself. But don’t let him convince you that he isn’t the most dangerous man in Panem.”

 

“Snow is the most dangerous man in Panem.” 

 

Johanna’s smile was thin, her eyes taking on an empty quality.

“I’ve seen that danger firsthand. Snow’s vicious. You can’t imagine…but he’s grown more paranoid and less patient by the day. He’s merciless, but he never had any mercy to begin with, so. He’s out of control, which makes him more bloodthirsty… and more vulnerable to lapses in judgement. Exactly what Heavensbee wants.

"Heavensbee doesn’t care terribly much how much blood Snow spills, or who gets hurt, as long as Snow keeps making mistakes that can be capitalised on. Everything is a game, to gamemakers. It takes a special kind of twisted brain to be successful in the Games; and Heavensbee has outlasted them all. Everyone becomes a piece in the game, a character in the narrative that must keep the audience hooked. The game is second nature, when you’ve been playing for years.

 “If Snow was a nutcase before, he wouldn’t have lasted in power for over a quarter of a century. When he had a better hold of his marbles, Heavensbee didn’t dare to challenge him so openly. But Heavensbee didn’t need tracker jackers, or electric shocks to pick the stitches in Snow’s mind and send him unravelling. That’s why he’s dangerous. He manipulates, twists already-loose screws yet further; and then he lets his victims loose to crash and burn. I’d rather he didn’t repeat the tactic on you.”

 

“I am entirely sane.”

 

“Yes. But you can make entirely sane mistakes.”

 

“True.” Alma kissed her tenderly. “But I’m learning. I can learn quickly. If Katniss becomes a problem, then I must remove her. If Heavensbee becomes a problem, he goes the same way.”

 

“I know. But tread carefully.”

 

Alma smiled gently. Johanna might have missed it, in this light, but she knew Alma’s face better than anyone.

“I should wake you up more often, little hedgehog.” She ruffled Johanna’s short hair. “Sleep easy. I’m not finished yet.”


End file.
